


Relax

by owlaholic68



Series: A bed of California stars [8]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2
Genre: Begging, Casual Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Consent, F/F, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 23:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13018815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Carla finds an unorthodox solution to a…difficult problem.





	Relax

Don’t think about her, Carla repeats to herself, her eyes boring a hole in the wall. She'll just stand here and ignore her and pretend to listen, and maybe she’ll stop and Carla can leave.

“Are you _listening_ to me, tribal?” First Citizen Joanne Lynette snaps.

“Of course, ma’am.” Carla dutifully nods. No, of course not, princess. With the attitude she throws around, does anyone listen anymore? Or do all of her precious Councilmembers just smile and nod, then have dreams of strangling her?

“And don’t even get me _started_ on that filthy monster you brought to my gates! First the ghouls, now _this_!” Lynette paces the room, her long legs quickly covering the distance from the desk to the door.

Carla keeps her chin up and thinks about anything besides the woman standing in front of her. But the First Citizen demands attention, and it’s near impossible _not_ to look at her. Lynette fills out her vault suit in a way that no malnourished wastelander could ever manage, her arms soft and smooth. She wields not sledgehammers, but pens and sharp words.

She is working herself into a furious rant about the impudence of idiotic tribals, and Carla wanted to leave fifteen minutes ago.

“First Citizen,” Carla interrupts. Screw it. She doesn't have to sit here and take this. “If you may excuse me, I really must get back to saving the wasteland.” She turns to leave.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Lynette snarls. “Don’t think you can just walk away from this, tribal scum.”

Carla bites her lip and shoots Lynette an innocent glance over her shoulder. “Oh, I’m so _sorry_ , princess. I was just going to come back when you’re in a _better_ mood.” She takes in the First Citizen’s tense shoulders and clenched jaw. “More relaxed. Calmer. Willing to listen to reason. Less Deathclaw, more Brahmin.”

Her arm is roughly grabbed and jerked backwards. Carla’s eyebrows furrow at the action.

“You dare- guard-”

Carla puts a finger on her lips. “Really? Can’t even deal with this yourself?” Only inches from Lynette’s face, she blushes at the closeness. This is not the moment for her ill-timed crush to resurface. Carla liked her before she knew what she was capable of.

Joanne Lynette scowls, but stays silent, cheeks dark. Her glasses have slipped down her nose, leaving her coppery brown eyes in full view. Interesting. She had never thought that the absolute leader of one of the most powerful settlements would have a submissive streak.

“Fine. I’ll let you leave. But just know that you will _never_ enter this city again.” Lynette lets go of her arm, but Carla doesn’t move away.

Maybe she can turn this situation to her advantage. Getting permanently kicked out of Vault City is not how Carla envisioned this conversation going. Carla briefly considers her plan. But this is no mole rat nest she's getting herself into. More like a Wanamingo dungeon.

“What- what are you doing?” Lynette says, brow knitted in confusion as Carla kneels at her feet.

“Maybe I could change your mind,” Carla says, inclining her head and swallowing. This is the stupidest thing she's ever done. Now Carla's going to get double kicked out. She raises her hands to rest on the outside of Lynette’s thighs. “This could be the later. You. More relaxed. Right now.”

Lynette just stares down at her, eyes wide. “Never thought I’d see this kind of submission from you, after all of the trouble you’ve caused me.”

“Who said anything about submission?” Carla demands, trailing one hand further up. Lynette visibly swallows, her eyes flickering towards the closed door.

“I- my room. More private.”

Carla just shakes her head. “Oh, I think I’m good here.” Carla has to make her totally fall apart. Nothing like a little risk to get her going. She squeezes, her fingers digging into the sturdy vault suit. “How about you? Or are you just _worried_ that you won’t be able to stay quiet, _Joanne_?”

“Fine. Of course I can.” Lynette glares down at her. “I’ll strike you a deal, _Carla_. You do this and I like it, you’ll be allowed into the city on a case-by-case basis. My approval needed. But I’m not making you do anything. You can refuse, and I’ll just let you leave. Your choice.”

“This sounds good to me.” Oh, it's not like Carla actually needed to trade with Vault City. That’s not why she's doing this. No, she's doing this for her own pleasure. And for Lynette's. Goodness knows she looks like she needs it. And if Carla can make a few people in Vault City’s lives easier and less stressful by relaxing their leader, she leans forward and presses her mouth to fabric, then why not?

Slowly, as teasingly as she can, Carla pulls down the zipper of Lynette’s suit. The whisper of fabric against skin is like the electric snap of a fresh cell in her powerfist, all danger and anticipation. Carla slides it down past her hips, leaving it pooled around her ankles. Then her hands slide back up, slowly, _slowly_ , until they hook into Lynette’s plain white underwear.

Carla stops there, and looks up. Lynette is biting her lip, her hands white-knuckled gripping the edge of the desk behind her. A good start. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her inner thigh, her soft hair brushing skin and making the woman above her shiver. Then Lynette jumps as Carla’s right hand cups the curve of her back, fingers teasing the scratchy cotton fabric.

“I’m going to pull this down now,” Carla whispers. “And then I’m going to fuck you so hard with my tongue that you’re going to come in minutes. Would you like that, _Joanne_? Would you like it so rough you can’t hardly breathe?” Above her, Lynette sucks in a gasp. Carla dips her nose between her thighs. “You’re wet just thinking about it. Or maybe you’d like it slow and gentle, someone to just mark every inch of you. You want me to drag it out until you beg, until you’re crying.”

Footsteps sound in the hallway outside the room. They stop. There’s a knock at the door.

“I’m busy,” Lynette snaps, her voice just barely shaking. “I’m not to be bothered for another half an hour.”

“Understood, First Citizen.” The sound of the footsteps fade.

“Go on,” Lynette whispers. “Yes. I hate it. Keep talking. Do it.”

Carla yanks down her underwear to her knees and pushes her back against the desk. With arms hardened from combat, she lifts one of Lynette’s legs to rest on her shoulder, like pulling back her fist and locking eyes with her target.

Lynette swallows a hum, lips pressed tightly together as Carla doesn’t start slow with her tongue, lapping broad strokes, quick and hard. Her hand finds Carla’s hair and her fingers tangle in the coarse strands. 

Carla allows it. From her angle, the ever-composed, perfectly put-together First Citizen already looks disheveled, feathers a little ruffled. It makes something inside her twitch and tingle as she takes the woman above her apart with her tongue. A few fingers join the effort, and she enjoys how Lynette shivers as the calloused pads of her fingers stroke the most sensitive parts of her body.

The room is silent but for the small noises that Lynette is trying to stifle, gasps and half-moans. The carpet is soft under Carla’s knees, and she’s thankful for the comfort. It allows her to focus, allows her to notice when Lynette gets a little _too_ comfortable, too caught up in her own pleasure, shuddering as Carla switches to sharp flicking motions with her tongue. Lynette’s legs start to shake and her breath audibly hitches.

Then she whines in frustration. “Why did you stop.” It barely comes out as a question, instead a hissed command.

Carla grins and licks her lips. “Wanted to remind you who’s really in charge here, _ma’am_.” Her eyelids flutter and she innocently bites her lip. “Did you want something? Please, speak up so I can hear you.”

She can _hear_ the frustration and embarrassment radiating off the woman above her, like the steady tick-tick of a Geiger counter. “Yes.” Lynette’s voice shakes. “I want you to make me come. I thought that I didn’t need to _ask_ that.”

“You don’t think you need to ask _anything_ ,” Carla retorts, trailing her finger slowly along the path her tongue just traced, making Lynette smother a moan. “You’re so sick with power, you think you can just look at someone and make them do your bidding. The perfect spoiled princess, sitting atop her gilded tower.”

Lynette growls and squirms as Carla’s finger slips inside her. “Shut up.”

In response, Carla withdraws her finger, Lynette’s hips instinctively chasing her hand. “Well, I think you’re going to have to use your words here, won’t you? And do be _polite_ , Joanne, please. Set an example for the rest of us.”

“Fine. Do everything in your power to make me orgasm, Carla.” Lynette closes her eyes and bites her lip as Carla’s head dips between her thighs again, one finger teasing her by slipping in just an inch, then out again.

Inwardly, Carla giggles. She didn’t say please; not too polite. She makes a point of licking and sucking in all the right places, at a pace that is already making Lynette shake. One of the First Citizen’s hands in still on her head, encouraging her to go deeper, harder, just how _she_ wants it. Well, you can’t always get what you want.

“Hands off,” Carla commands, pulling back. Lynette’s shoulders raise defensively, her eyes stormy at the prospect of obeying someone else. But at Carla’s half-lidded smirk as she bends down to bite at the inside of her thigh, hard, Lynette cedes and curls both hands around the edge of the desk.

Carla attacks her body with an enthusiasm usually reserved for punching deathclaws and fixing air purifiers, slipping two fingers inside her and gently scraping her teeth in addition to all of her other tricks. Lynette can’t hardly hold back her increasingly loud groans.

“Yes, Carla, _there_ , I-”

And that’s her cue to stop again, pulling back and laughing at Lynette’s frustrated snarl.

“Why-”

“Not very polite,” Carla interrupts, a small thrill shooting through her own body at the simple act of rebellion, of not just speaking when spoken to. “Didn’t even say please. Come on, Joanne, I know you’re better than that. Now how about we try that again, okay?”

She scowls. “Please, Carla.”

“Please _what_? That’s a little vague.”

She flushes in humiliation, her eyes darting to the door as if she thinks someone might be listening. “Please let me come, Carla. Please-” her voice breaks as Carla puts her mouth _just right_ and hums. “Please do that again. I liked it. Please move your fingers faster, please just. Let. Me. Come. _Please._ ” She’s almost begging at this point, chest heaving and eyes wide in desperation, squirming as Carla drags her tongue slowly, swirling it and making her whimper.

Carla can’t deny that that _does_ something to her, and she mentally files away the memory for later. But that’s good enough. Carla's not even sure if the word ‘please’ has ever even come out of her mouth before. “Oh, well since you asked _so_ nicely, how could I refuse?”

Lynette has to put a hand over her own mouth to stifle the half-scream that Carla draws out of her as she lets her _finally_ reach her peak. Her back arches and Carla delights in the way her legs shake. Something tingles in response between her own legs, but Carla pushes her own pleasure aside. She'll deal with that later. It'll be easy just to make sure everyone else falls asleep before her tonight.

When it’s done, Carla wipes her mouth and stands on sore legs. Lynette is _barely_ standing before her, leaning heavily on the desk, clothing still pooled around her ankles and wetness dripping down her thighs. In any other situation, this is when they would kiss and fall asleep together. But the First Citizen is not _that_ kind of woman, and this isn’t _that_ kind of relationship.

“Much better,” Carla whispers, voice slightly hoarse. She pushes up Lynette’s glasses with a still-damp finger.

Lynette swallows hard and tries to retain her composure, failing miserably. “When will you be back in the area?”

Carla taps on her chin. “In a few weeks. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lynette mutters. “The gate guards will call me for confirmation to let you in, if I’m feeling in the mood. But don’t hold your breath for me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Carla echoes, and flips one of her long braids over her shoulder before slipping out the door. She walks unhindered to the gates, a faint smile still on her face.

That went better than expected. For both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Et voilà, the second-worst thing I've ever written (and the worst published)! 
> 
> Carla feels a little OOC, but eh who knows?  
> EDIT: changed some of the style, edited it a little
> 
> For some weird reason that only makes sense in my own brain, I got this idea from a fandom ask that kourumi on Tumblr sent me. One of the questions was my favorite character that others hate (secretly Lynette), and another was my fav ship (which there aren't very many female characters in fo2, so I hard to search my brain hard). And idk why, but the idea sprung to my head as the ONLY way that they'd EVER be together in any way, shape, or form.


End file.
